


There's No Truth Like Home

by julidoesnotwrites (notjuli)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ace character, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sherlock Holmes, Asexual Sherlock Holmes/Heterosexual John Watson, Asexuality, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Heterosexual John Watson, M/M, Straight!John, ace!sherlock, straight john watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjuli/pseuds/julidoesnotwrites
Summary: Greg knows the Crime Scene version of Sherlock and John; maybe it's time for him to meet another version of them.





	There's No Truth Like Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Domesticity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/712300) by [hoc_voluerunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoc_voluerunt/pseuds/hoc_voluerunt). 



> This work is not Beta-ed not Brit-picked and English is not my first language, so if you notice any errors please do leave a coment letting me know!

There's not much that can surprise Gregory Lestrade at this point of his life.

He's been in the police force for almost thirty years now, and he's seen lots of things there. He's been working with Sherlock Holmes for almost a decade, and  _ god _ he'd seen some things there.

He can handle from children to criminals, all fine, he can handle Sherlock better than most, he knows a lot of things, he's done lots of things; not much comes as a surprise anymore. Less than all himself. And yet-

He's come to 221B Baker Street more times that he can recall. He's come to this apartment for more reasons that he can recall- and that he should've come. For both professional and personal matters he'd come here before. The most gruesome crimes in London over the past decade had brought him here way too many times. He's come here for fake drugs busts, for real drugs busts, for social calls, for Christmas parties, to check on them both. Way too many reasons had brought him to Baker Street over the years.

But never- not once- had he come intending to stay the night. Well, there's always a first time for everything.

 

“Come in!” John yelled before he even got to the top of the stairs, “it's open!”

Greg opened the door to find Sherlock stretched out on the couch with a laptop in his legs but his eyes closed and John in the kitchen wearing a blue-grayish arpon that read ‘be ready to call for takeaway!’, who cleaned his hands to come greet him. Sherlock didn't seem to notice him.

“Greg! ‘Ello.”

“John, hi. Thank you again for letting me stay tonight. Flat's flooded and I swear, if I sleep on my desk another night my bones are going to combust.”

“No problem mate. Glad you called when you did, I was out getting things for dinner, so I made sure we had for you too. Soy sauce chicken and bell peppers sounds good?”

Before Greg could answer and say it sounded like the best meal he'd had in months, Sherlock suddenly opened his eyes and started typing something in his laptop mumbling to himself.

“Ah, you are back,” John addressed him, “don't get too caught up with that because you have to help me over here in a bit,” he warned Sherlock who snarled back at him, to which John rolled his eyes. “He's been like this all day,” John addressed Greg again. “Would you rather some desk space or a place on the couch with the telly?”

“Eh, desk if possible, I have some reports to finish,” He said, backpack still in shoulder.

“Yes, ok,” said John and turned. “Sherlock clean some space in the desk for Greg would you?”

After a few moments in which Sherlock didn't acknowledge him nor made any attempts to get up he repeated;

“Sherlock! Come on, get up, you wouldn't want Greg going through your papers himself would you? He's off duty but he could still take the files you t-”

“Ok! Ok, I'm going, look John, I'm up and cleaning the desk. Now shut up.” To which John smiled and returned to the food while Sherlock piled up papers from the desk and moved them around. Greg rolled his eyes.

When Sherlock was done making space on the desk he turned to him. “Don't touch my things,” he warned.

“Considering that some of those papers are files and reports you stole from me...” He trailed off, clearly not intending on anything other than make fun of Sherlock and sat down at the desk.

They all worked in silence for a while, each with their thing; Greg filling up forms on the desk, John chopping things in the kitchen, occasionally mumbling bits and pieces of songs Greg couldn't really recognize, and Sherlock doing- whatever he was up to- in the couch.

After what seemed like half an hour, but maybe more, Greg couldn't tell, John spoke up;

“Sherlock go wash your hands and come help me would you?” 

A moment of silence passed and, “Sherlock, come on, or would you rather be on spinach-washing duty tomorrow? Come help me chop the peppers.”

Greg really thought Sherlock wouldn't get up, and was surprised when he did as told and walked to the kitchen not a complain coming out of his mouth.

He observed, unable to turn away, as they got to work, one next to the other in perfect sync, anticipating each other's moves. They barely talked, John giving instructions here and there, but they moved as if this was the hundredth time they were doing this.

They complemented each other movements perfectly; when John needed the drawer Sherlock was standing in front of, instead of asking him to move he just shoved him a bit to the side with his own body, when he needed to reach for something on the other side of Sherlock, instead of moving around him, he leaned into him, definitely into his personal space, and reached, to the point in which he lost balance and felt right into Sherlock's chest, who laughed - _ laughed _ \- and shoved him back.

Greg was almost in a trance, unable to turn away, looking at them being so- so  _ domestic _ , feeling almost like an intruder.

And he was; he was an intruder.

This was their house, their routine -apparently-, their lives -their life- behind closed doors, and here was Greg, watching this, watching them, watching them move like in a well rehearsed dance, watching  _ those smiles _ .

He turned back to his papers, almost ashamed for looking.

He realised then, that this must be what they are like for real. What they are like when they are not chasing criminals or observing bodies or in front of the Met or being subjects of drug/evidence busts. This is what they are when it's just them, when they are alone in the safety of their own home, behind the doors of 221B, this is what they are. This is Sherlock and John.

They shared a similar mechanic here now than when they worked in crime scenes, but it was also more... relaxed, for the lack of a better word.

He felt weird. Embarrassed for looking, a bit confused really, and yet a small smile was traced on his face after seeing them so... so content and-

His thought process was interrupted by a giggle- John's giggle.

“Well, ok,” he was saying, “tell me something... About birds now!”

He was now leaning on the wall, facing Sherlock's side (who was still chopping with what seemed like millimetric precision), and looking at him with such an open expression like Greg had never seen before on his face.

“Well, there's this rare species, originary from south America, really south America, usually found in South Chile or Argentina...” Sherlock started ranting and Greg tuned him out turning his attention to John again.

John who was looking at Sherlock with as much amazement as he usually showed in crime scenes, during a specially amazing deduction, but it was... more. It was... softer.

Greg felt, once again, like an intruder and was already starting to regret calling John, guessing he would feel like this all evening.

He got lost in thought (and forms, but he really didn't make much progress on those) for a while and got snapped out of it by John's call for him.

“Greg! This'll be done any minute now, if you want to round that up,” he said.

“Not any minute,” corrected Sherlock, “in approximately eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds, error margin of six seconds,” he assured causing both John and Greg to roll their eyes, a smirk on John's face.

“Yes, that,” John said and turned to Sherlock. “We need more space at the table, so clean up some things.”

“But John!” he complained, “that's my side! We have a rule and I'm respecting it!”

“Yes, yes we do, and yes you are, but we have a guest. And that means we need more space at the table, and that means you need to clean up some experiments, so go do that or you eat on the floor.”

“I'll eat on th-”

“No! You are not eating on the floor. Clean up.”

“That's not fair,” Sherlock complained but moved things around nonetheless.

Greg quickly finished scribbling his notes on the last file he had opened and put his things back in his backpack. He helped set the table and then Sherlock reseted it because he apparently “did it all wrong”. Greg didn't even complain.

He sat down where Sherlock indicated and waited while John plated and placed on the table the chicken and peppers, separately, and Sherlock peaked into his experiments on the other end of the table.

“Come sit Sherlock,” John told him as he settled down. “We've got chicken sautéed in soy sauce and oven-roasted bell peppers,” he told Greg, letting him serve himself first and then serving himself his and Sherlock's plates.

“Wow, didn't knew you could cook mate. And even if, wouldn't have imagined you did much, but it does look amazing,” said Greg, actually impressed.

“Well, yes, I'm not much of a cook, but I know all the easy things, and believe it or not, this is all pretty easy. All the Hard To Fuck Up dishes are my specialty,” he explained. “And no, I didn't used to cook much, but then I almost had to get him hospitalised for malnutrition a while back,” he gestured to Sherlock, “so I settled a meal plan and started to cook much more.”

“Shit, mate! That bad it got?”

“It was after a particularly long case, yes, but it was adding up of years of barely eating, so yeah, pretty bad.”

“Holly- This is really good John!” Greg praised after his first bite.

“Wait until you try the peppers. Sherlock's favourites,” John replied with a smile. “Which by the way,” he turned to Sherlock, “go on, start eating. Until you don't finish the chicken you can't have more peppers.”

They all took a few bites in silence and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, to which John answered raising one of his own.

“Good. Less salty than last time, better,” Sherlock said dismissively and John grinned to that.  _ Must be a big compliment coming from him _ , Greg thought.

They ate in comfortable silence interrupted by sports chatter here and there from John and Greg's part and occasionally Sherlock mumbling, mostly to himself.

Sherlock was, surprisingly, the first one to finish his plate and immediately served himself half a plate of peppers and sunk into them happily causing John to grin again.

Once they were finished, Sherlock was the first one to escape the table and to the sitting room, while John and Greg stayed chatting for another few minutes.

“What time d'you need to get up tomorrow?” John asked. “So I can make sure you have actual food for breakfast and not an experiment or something.”

“I honestly can't believe you still live here, just going by things I've seen on the fridge,” Greg laughed. “And I should leave before eight, so probably get up around seven, but you don't need to get up for me mate.”

“It's nothing, I have work tomorrow so I'm getting up anyways, I'll just get up a bit earlier,” John assured. “I assume you want a shower and I advice taking it tomorrow morning rather than now. You'll have more hot water on the mornings,” he explained.

“Yeah, that's fine. Shall I do the dishes?”

“Ok, I'll get ready the upstairs bedroom for you then,” John replied as he got up.

“Wait, what? Isn't that  _ your _ bedroom?” Asked Greg confused.

“... Well, yes, but I doubt he's sleeping anyways,” he said nodding back to Sherlock, “and even when he does sleep, at least half of the time he sleeps  on the couch. So, there'll probably be a free bed, and I'm not making you sleep on the couch with those odds,” explained John, “so, upstairs it is for you.”

“You sure?”

“Yep,” leaving no place for discussion as he left the kitchen and his footsteps resounded from the staircase the next moment.

_ Well, you are sleeping in John's bed tonight it seems, _ Greg thought to himself as he started with the dishes.

He was almost finished when John appeared back in the kitchen but he walked right past him into Sherlock's room where he disappeared and re-emerged a minute later.

“Almost done here? Good, come on, I'll show you upstairs,” he said and went to the sitting room.

Greg dried his hands and followed John into the sitting room where he found him on his armchair watching Sherlock who was looking out the window and appeared completely lost in thought.

John noticed him and got up quickly and lead him upstairs. 

“Changed the sheets a few days ago and haven't slept there since, so you've got clean sheets mate.”

“Ta. You sure about me sleeping here?” Greg asked, still unsure.

“Yes, Greg, I promise it's fine, I- Yes, it's fine. I really don't think Sherlock is sleeping anyways...”

“Can I ask you something?” John nodded. “It's- It's really none of my business but... are you two together?”

_ There. Finally asked, _ thought Greg.  _ He is making me sleep in his bed, I think I can ask this now. _

“Eh...” John looked -not uncomfortable, but not pleased either. “Yes. Kinda. Not how you are thinking. I'm not gay. But- Ok yes, we are together, but we don't-  we don't  _ do _ sex,” he explained a bit too quickly - _ nervous _ .

_ About what? My reaction, obvious. Oh god, I sound like Sherlock now. _

“Ok? It's really none of my business mate, and I'm definitely not going to judge you, both of you, regardless. Sorry for asking, shouldn't have.”

“No, it's fine, it only makes sense you'd ask, this was my bedroom after all,” John said. “Yes, we are together, no, we don't have sex; he... doesn't do that and I'm not into blokes like that- or at all, it's- it's just him. God, I sound pathetic,” he mumbled the last words. “But yeah, I sleep mostly downstairs now, so no, I really don't need this room, so yes, you are sleeping here.”

“Hey, that's fine mate, really, sorry for asking at all.”

“Ta, it's ok.” And after a few awkward moments of silence he spoke up again. “I'm going to stay up for a while, watch some telly or something. You are welcome to join me, or just, I don't know, do as you'd please. If you need anything later Sherlock will possibly be awake, or you can just knock on the door of the room and I'll wake up.”

“Ok, thanks mate. Yeah, telly sounds good, I'll be down there in a minute,” he said, and John went back downstairs.

Greg followed him a few minutes later, after changing out of his work clothes into the pair of sweatpants and loose shirt he'd brought, and found them both on the couch discussing about what to watch.

“You are the tiebreaker Greg, what do you prefer, a rerun of The Great British Bake Off, some deadly animal documentary or whatever action movie is on?”

“Oh, well, action movie, but they are all good options,” he said as he sat down in John's armchair, which had been moved next to the couch for a better view of the telly.

“Of course he'd choose that! Not fair,” Sherlock complained, but stayed in his seat next to John, even if he was definitely doing something on his phone.

John finally found the correct channel and a truly horrible American action movie stared at them for the next fifty or so minutes. Greg, as hard as he tried, could not stare back at it, not completely. His eyes kept averting to the two figures on the couch, lightly illuminated by the telly, sitting so close their sides must've been touching toe-to-shoulder. He could make out some slight movements, of what he guessed was John's hand petting Sherlock's leg or arm. 

He felt horrible for looking, and yet still he found himself having to force his eyes back to the screen more than a few times during the movie.

As soon as the credits rolled on screen he got up, gave his goodnights and left. He hardly needed to be there anymore.

The next morning Greg woke up to the sound of his alarm going off. He quickly turned it off, grabbed his clothes and made his way downstairs, finding both the sitting room and kitchen empty.  _ They must still be asleep, _ he thought, immediately followed by the realisation of  _ what a strange thought, Sherlock sleeping _ . He took a quick shower - _ so  _ this _ is Sherlock Holmes’ shampoo _ \- and when he got out he found everything still empty and quiet. He went back upstairs, made the bed and put his things back in his backpack and went down again, with his things ready now.

Everything was still empty and quiet and he contemplated what to do next. He should wait for John to get up, right? He'd said he'd wake up to make breakfast to stop him from intoxicating himself with one of Sherlock's experiments or something, but he hadn't waken already, and Greg was definitely not going to wake him. He was about to grab his things to leave and buy a coffee on his way to the Yard when he heard a noise from the bedroom at end of the corridor.

A few moments later he heard the door open, some footsteps and finally, John emerged to the kitchen. He had clearly just woken up, face still full of sleep, his hair a mess, and a soft, sleepy expression.

“Oh, hi Greg,” He greeted, “Imma just pop the kettle and be back in a sec,” he did as said and walked to the bathroom. Greg settled down on a chair and checked his phone until John came back. “Good morning,” he said sounding much more awake now, and looking so too. “Coffee or tea?” He asked as he started getting things from the fridge and cupboards.

“Morning John. Coffee please. Should I help with something?” He asked while John turned the stove on.

“Nah, I got it mate. How does eggs and toast sound?”

“Sounds like the best breakfast I've had in awhile,” he laughed. “Sherlock’s asleep?”

“Yeah, he shouldn't wake up for another hour, at least. He came to bed around three, I think.” He sounded resigned,  _ and he probably is _ . “He really should sleep more.” He added and set back to work.

“Still not having sex? That'd surely make him sleep more,” He laughed. John turned pink, laughed a little and focused hard on the pan in front of him.

A few minutes later he turned off the stove and placed a cup of coffee, a plate of eggs and toast in front of Greg and a cup of tea and a single toast in front of himself and took a seat.

“You are going back to your place tonight? Or do you still need a place to stay?” Asked John while he picked up the plates. “You can always come back here if you need to, mate,” he offered.

“Oh, no, I think it should be solved for tonight, and I may still just nap at my desk post-duty anyways. And regardless, I wouldn't want to disrupt you two anymore.”

“But it's not problem Greg, really. You are not disrupting anything; we have a free bed here and we don't mind you. If you need a place to crash, we are always here mate.”

“Ok, well, I'll see what I do later John, but thank you, really, you saved my arse here.”

“It's not big deal mate. You've got to go like now right? I'll pop into the shower so I'll see you later, and call me if you need to come here tonight,” John said and walked back to Sherlock's - _ their _ \- room..

“Yes, thank you again John, see ya’.”

And yes, crashing with them was definitely weird. Seeing them like this was weird, but this is who they are, and Greg couldn't be happier for them. If there was two people who fitted perfectly together, those were Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! juli here-  
> this fic, oh this fic! ive had it in mind since forever, it is actually kinda inspired by [this work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/712300).  
> i dont really like the ending, but i wasnt sure how i wanted to end it at all, so i went with that, but i know its not amazing.  
> Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! if you have anything youd like to say, any suggestions, if you can think of a better ending yourself, anything at all, id love to hear it, so feel free to comment.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thisisnotjuli) on my personal blog and [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanishjuli) on my fandoms blog!


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